Chapter 178 My Personal Trainer Wanna Fuck Me
“Hold the bottom,” he said, suddenly right behind me. His voice was low, close enough that I felt his breath on the back of my neck. “Good depth. But open those hips more. Let me fix it.”
His hands landed on my hips—big, hot palms spreading wide. Fingers dug in just enough to guide me. He pulled my hips back gently, adjusted my stance, and his chest brushed my shoulder blade. The heat of him poured through my clothes. I could smell him—clean sweat, something woodsy, pure man. My core clenched hard. A fresh rush of wetness soaked my folds, making the fabric cling.
“Like this,” he murmured, so quiet only I could hear. “Feel that? Deeper. Use your glutes.”
My breath caught. His thumbs pressed into the soft dip above my ass, and I swear I felt his cock brush the back of my thigh through his shorts—thick, heavy, half-hard. Or maybe I imagined it. Either way, my pussy fluttered, clit throbbing against the seam. A tiny sound slipped out—a soft, needy whimper I couldn’t catch.
“You’re responding well,” he said, voice gravel-low. “Keep that tension. Good girl.”
Good girl. The words punched straight to my clit. I rose from the squat on trembling legs, thighs slick now, not just sweat. When he finally stepped away, my nipples were rock-hard, stabbing against my sports bra. I crossed my arms over my chest, mortified and so turned on I could barely think.
The rest of class was pure torture. Lunges—he “corrected” my knee, hand sliding up the inside of my thigh until his fingers were inches from where I was dripping. Planks—he knelt beside me, praising my form while his eyes dragged over the way my ass lifted, round and high. By the end I was a mess—sweat everywhere, pussy swollen and aching, leggings dark at the crotch from how wet I’d gotten.
Everyone filed out. I stayed behind, rolling my mat slow, trying to calm my breathing. Jax caught me at the door. Up close he was overwhelming—dark eyes, faint stubble, that same knowing half-smile. His gaze flicked to my chest for a split second—long enough to see my nipples—then back to my face.
“Solid first class,” he said. “You’ve got good natural mobility. I’d like to do a full private assessment with you. Tomorrow morning. Free for new members.”
I nodded before my brain caught up. My voice came out breathy. “Yeah. That… that sounds good. Thank you.”
He smiled—slow, filthy, like he already knew exactly how soaked I was. “See you then, Lara.”
I walked to my car on shaking legs. Every step rubbed my thighs together, friction sparking straight to my clit. By the time I got home I was throbbing so hard I couldn’t think straight. I locked the bathroom door, yanked my leggings and panties down in one motion, and slid three fingers deep into my dripping cunt. It clenched around them instantly—hot, greedy, fluttering. I pumped fast, thumb grinding my clit, picturing Jax’s hands on my hips, his voice growling good girl while that thick bulge in his shorts pressed against me.
I came hard—back arching, biting my forearm to muffle the cry—walls spasming, slick coating my hand and dripping down my wrist. My legs gave out. I slid to the floor, panting, still twitching.
Later, lying next to Mark’s snoring body, I stared at the ceiling and smiled in the dark.
Tomorrow. Private session.
I didn’t know what I was walking into.
But I was already counting the hours.
I stood in the assessment room, arms crossed, staring at the mirrored wall like it owed me money. The clock on the wall read 9:58. She was two minutes early. Good. I liked them eager.
The door to the women’s locker room was cracked just enough. I caught the reflection in the big mirror across the hall—Lara, peeling off her hoodie, that cropped sports bra hugging her tits like it was painted on. Soft, full, the kind that bounced just right when she moved. She bent to tug her leggings up higher, and fuck, that ass. Round, juicy, the seam splitting her cheeks like it was begging to be spread. My cock twitched hard in my shorts, thickening fast, the head already pushing against the fabric, leaking a little wet spot I’d have to hide later.
Jesus Christ, I thought, palming myself once through the material just to ease the ache. Look at her. Married. Ring on her finger like a fucking billboard. But that body? That body’s starving.
I’d fucked plenty of them in here. The blonde from last month—bent over the bench press, wedding ring flashing every time I slammed into her from behind, begging me to fill her while her husband thought she was at yoga. The redhead two weeks before that, legs over my shoulders on the mat, screaming my name so loud I had to cover her mouth. They all started the same—nervous, polite, pretending they were here for “tone and definition.” They all ended the same—dripping down their thighs, promising they’d come back for more “sessions.”
But this one… Lara. She was different. I’d seen it in class yesterday. The way her breath hitched when I touched her hips. The little whimper she tried to swallow. The dark patch blooming between her legs by the end of the workout. She wasn’t just wet. She was flooded. And I was going to find out exactly how tight that married pussy could squeeze.
She walked in right on time, cheeks already pink, eyes flicking to my chest before dropping to the floor. “Hi. I’m here for the assessment?”
“Perfect timing,” I said, voice low, letting it rumble the way I knew made them clench. I gestured to the mat. “We’ll start with posture. Lie down on your back for me. Bridge position first. Feet flat, knees bent.”
She did it without hesitation, spreading her legs just enough to get into position. Those leggings were thin—black, stretchy, clinging to every curve. I could already see the outline of her pussy lips, plump and soft, the fabric slightly darker right at the center. I dropped to one knee beside her, close enough that my thigh brushed hers.
“Lift your hips,” I told her. “Good. Now hold.”
My hands went to her hips first, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above her pubic bone. I guided her up higher, feeling the way her glutes fired under my palms. Firm. Round. But when I slid my hands down to her inner thighs, spreading them wider “for proper alignment,” she sucked in a sharp breath. Her skin was hot, smooth, and I let my thumbs drift higher—dangerously close. The pad of my right thumb grazed the edge of her pussy through the fabric. Just a brush. But I felt it. The heat. The slickness al
ready soaking through.
She squirmed, thighs trying to close, but I held them open. “Easy,” I murmured. “You’re tight here. Need to open those hips more. Breathe through it.”